hi hello,
welcome to the forty-first issue of somatic semantics.
a few days ago an instagram post by maya finoh appeared as soon as i opened the app.
a perfect articulation of the ways in which the world fails to hold us again + again + again + again. of how we are made to hold ourselves + each other with arms too weak + too short for the task.
on their second slide, finoh shares anne boyer’s what resembles the grave but isn’t, an accurate depiction of my perpetual mental/emotional state.
being chronically ill means constantly falling into grave-like holes as neurotypical +/or able-bodied onlookers ask “what are you doing in there?”
question(s) of the week?
who convinced you of the inconvenience of your existence?
how have they pronounced your mortality? shortened every breath until it was reduced to a whimper
who taught you that, even in a hole, you are bodily excess to be disposed of?
i leave you with miriam makeba’s love tastes like strawberries :
with love + light,
nènè